One Night
by Noitpmeder
Summary: It's Ziva's first night back in D.C. and Tony wants to be there for her. Post-Somalia fic. One-shot. Give it a chance!


Crap.

He knew this had been a bad idea.

He shouldn't have agreed to it.

But he'd also known she'd needed it.

* * *

_Ziva stood silently in the back corner of the bathroom, her arms self-consciously crossed in front of her as she leaned against the wall for support. She was debating whether or not to change her mind when Tony suddenly appeared in the doorway, a reassuring smile plastered on his face. _

_He moved towards the glassed-in shower and turned it on, testing the water until the temperature was comfortably warm but not too hot._

_Next, he walked over to her, their bodies almost touching. He slowly moved his hands towards the hem of her shirt and tugged it up._

_She tensed as his fingers brushed across bare skin, her body reacting to three months' worth of unwanted memories. But when she felt him pull back, she quickly moved to cover his hands with her own and together, they worked to remove her black T-shirt. _

_She watched as his eyes dilated with anger as he took in the old and new bruises across her torso but he didn't comment, for which she was grateful._

_Instead, he moved to her cargo pants, murmuring soft reassurances as he removed them as well and they joined her discarded shirt on the floor, leaving her clad only in a bra and pair of panties._

_Then, Tony turned his attention on himself and began to unbutton his shirt but Ziva's hands were quick to stop him. When he looked up, confused, she simply shook her head 'no'. _

_Tony nodded his understanding then moved to her side, pausing to ask her permission. _

_"I trust you."_

_He carefully hooked an arm around her waist and supported her weight as they slowly progressed towards the shower._

* * *

Tony paced across the length of the living room while repeatedly running a hand through his hair, trying to get rid of his nervousness and anxiety.

What had he been thinking?

* * *

_The warm water coursed across her skin, working steadily to remove the dirt and grime of the desert, beneath which she was beginning to see her own olive-toned skin again. She cautiously traced a hand along the length of her forearm, almost as if she couldn't believe that it was hers. _

_After spending months in a small cell without any basic necessities, being clean seemed to be a luxury and she was enjoying every minute of it._

_However, Ziva could tell by the way that Tony continually tensed behind her that he didn't share her sentiments._

_She could feel how he lingered over each injury as he carefully washed her body with his scented soap (the one that smelled like him). _

_After her rescue, she'd been checked by a doctor in case of any life-threatening injuries and when she'd been cleared to fly, they'd left. They spent all night on a cargo plane just to get back to D.C._

_But that didn't mean that she'd never had any life-threatening injuries._

_She could remember the times when they'd stitched her injuries, gave her medicine, and time to heal - just so they could push her back to the brink of death again._

_Everyone has a breaking point and they'd been determined to see hers. She'd been close - on the very edge - when Tony unexpectedly showed up with McGee and Gibbs and the rest of the cavalry, somehow finding her despite everything. _

_She was brought out of her reverie when Tony's hand ghosted over a scarred wound she'd received in the first few days with Saleem._

_"How did you get this one?"_

_One question and she was back in the blistering heat, suffering through another day._

_It was only for a few moments but the flashback was enough to send her into a panic. She struggled out of Tony's grasp and stumbled out of the shower, using the wall to support her uncoordinated movements._

_Tony realized what he'd said and tried to help, reaching out to steady her but she pushed him away._

_Amazingly, she managed to snag a towel before she disappeared out the door and down the hallway._

* * *

He stared at the bedroom door, willing it to open on its own - just so he could sneak a peek to see that she was alright. But nothing happened for fifteen minutes, then half an hour, then an hour, and then his legs started cramping.

Finally, he gave up and hesitantly raised his hand to knock.

But before he could, there was a small creak and the doorway was suddenly filled by Ziva's small frame.

Her brown eyes flickered nervously to his fisted hand.

_Crap._

"Um, I was just, uh -"

"I do not want to be alone."

Her words were so unexpected that it took him a moment to process them.

Still as observant as ever, she noticed it immediately and let her gaze drift to the floor in embarrassment. She'd mistaken his surprise as rejection and his extended pause as him brainstorming a way to let her down gently.

She moved to close the door but he easily blocked her efforts.

"Neither do I."

When she opened the door again, a small part of him swelled with hope - hope that this was the first step in her letting him in. But he knew that wasn't how it worked.

Because whatever happened tonight, tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow she would move out and find a hotel to stay at, claiming that the first thing she wants is to regain her independence. He'll protest at first but then he'll let her have her way because who was he to argue?

His three hours of interrogation didn't compare to her three months of torture.

He'll go to work and everything will have resumed its normal routine except for the occasional well-wisher, congratulator, or concerned 'friend'.

He'll stay up all night in case she calls even though some part of him knows she won't.

Across town, she'll wake up every hour, panting and sweating - her mind wandering to a place faraway in the desert. She'll toss and turn to find a more comfortable position (as if that's the problem).

But ultimately, she'll fall asleep imagining that she's wrapped in Tony's arms and replaying the soothing murmurs he whispered in her ear the night before.

But that was tomorrow.

He only wanted to focus on the here and now.

Tony tucked Ziva close to his chest, her head nestled under his chin. It was hard to believe that the heart that beat steadily under his grip belonged to a woman he thought was dead two days ago.

She was here - living and breathing and still fighting.

It felt like they were living on borrowed time.

But he didn't care - he could live like that if it meant tomorrow never came. He was perfectly content in this moment where there were no walls between them, no secret glances, nothing but them at their most vulnerable (even a ninja's walls didn't rebuild that quickly).

Nothing but love.

* * *

_**Please review.**_

_**Reviews are hammers that I use to crush my writer's block! :)**_

_**- Emily**_


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